


Friends

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Gatchaman Crowds
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Excessive Drinking, Inline with canon, M/M, Male Friendship, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2744984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Alan never knows whether to be happy or sad when he makes a friend at work." Alan makes friends with one of his regulars, and it turns out much better than he feared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caring

Alan never knows whether to be happy or sad when he makes a friend at work. It certainly improves his day, to have the pleasure of someone else’s company to ease him through the late-night hours of his shift, but emotionally investing in someone who is a regular at the bar is a quick way to sign up for a lot more sympathetic heartbreak than Alan really wants.

At least he never has to make the hard decision, care or don’t-care, hurt or self-defense. It’s always made for him by the time he sees the danger; it’s one of the problems of being a friendly bartender.

“Hey Jou,” he says without turning around at the sound of the door opening. “Your regular?”

Jou doesn’t answer, but by the time Alan turns back around with the martini glass there’s a bill resting on the counter while Jou drifts towards the dartboard. There’s no one in the restaurant; it’s the odd hour of the night, too late for dinner and too early for half-drunk dates. This is the time for the regulars, the heavy drinkers, the ones who start off steady and hold to a set pace for hours on end. It’s Jou’s time.

“How’d it go?” Alan asks as he pushes the register shut -- the bill is enough for the night, Jou knows himself as well as Alan does -- and comes out from behind the counter, wiping his hands against his apron.

Jou doesn’t shake his head, doesn’t look away from the dartboard. That’s answer in and of itself, even before he says, “He said no. Again.”

“Are you sure he knows you’re interested?” Alan leans against one of the support columns, watches the first of Jou’s darts fly straight to the bullseye like it’s on a string. Even after hours, Jou never misses a shot. “Have you  _told_  him?”

“I can’t.” Another dart. Jou’s rubbing his thumb over the remaining ones; Alan’s seen him play with his cigarettes like that, too, when it’s warm enough outside to linger in the smoky dark. “He deserves better than me.”

“That’s a hell of a martyr complex,” Alan points out. “You’re making decisions for him like you know better. Shouldn’t you let the kid decide for himself how he feels about you?”

That gets a humorless smile tugging at the corner of Jou’s mouth. He doesn’t look away from the dartboard. “I’ve been making decisions for him since he was a kid and I  _did_  know better.” He throws another dart. It forms a neat cluster with the first few, leaves just one more pressing into Jou’s fingertips. “He thinks I’m a  _hero_.”

“Aren’t you?”

Alan can see Jou’s shoulders curve in on himself, slouch like he’s defending himself from attack. He throws the last dart left-handed; it sinks into the board in the exact middle of the others.

“There’s no such thing.” He turns his back towards Alan, blocks off the bartender’s line of sight as Jou moves towards the bar and reaches for his waiting drink. “Only kids believe in being saved.”


	2. Treat

Alan’s been waiting for almost an hour by the time the door opens to the cool of the falling night. He got a text hours before his shift, just one word --  _Tonight_  -- freighted with so much adrenaline Alan is secondhand jittery, as if  _he’s_  the one going on a date.

He’s never seen Sugane Tachibana before in his life, though he’s fairly sure Jou has a few pictures that he has been hoarding on his phone. But he’s heard enough about him, tipsy rambles about the wheat-yellow of his hair and clear gold of his eyes and even the narrow line of his shoulders, that when he looks up at the sound of the door the boy looking back over his shoulder at Jou looks nearly as familiar as Jou himself.

“Welcome!” Alan calls from the bar. Jou glances at him, just for a moment, but then he’s looking back at Sugane with his expression so gentle and tender Alan can hardly believe it’s his best friend he’s seeing. He’s  _never_  seen Jou like that, even in the last few weeks when he’s started smiling more and drinking less and checking his phone for text messages every few minutes. Alan promised to be cool, swore to stay calm, but it’s a physical impossibility to fight the grin off his face as Sugane comes up towards the bar with Jou trailing him like he’s magnetized.

“What can I get you?” he manages around his irrepressible smile. It doesn’t matter, really; neither of them are watching him. Jou is gazing at Sugane like he’s the only thing in the world and Sugane is so forcefully not looking at Jou he might as well be blind to everything else.

“A drink,” Sugane says, his voice cracking high and strained so Alan has to try very, very hard not to laugh. Jou’s grinning, finally breaking his concentrated gaze to glance at Alan with an expression that telegraphs more clearly than words  _isn’t he perfect?_

“Got it,” Alan manages, and he really ought to push for more information but Sugane’s hands are shaking and he’s flushing pink under the line of his thick-framed glasses, and Alan’s pretty sure this is the cutest thing he’s ever seen and he can’t keep watching and retain his composure.

He decides on their behalf. Jou is easy -- Alan’s never known him to order anything but that neon-blue cocktail, the one that tastes like raspberries -- and Sugane is too, with that determination written all over his face and lack of experience trembling in his hands. The cider Alan ends up pouring for him is more sweet than it is alcoholic, mild enough that with any luck the blond won’t get himself accidentally drunk on his birthday night.

Jou’s reaching for his drink before Alan has entirely set it down, lifting the glass just off the bar before Sugane has time to visibly stress about what to do. “Happy birthday, Sugane.” Alan can hear the suggestion purring smoke into his voice, is grinning while Sugane is stammering thanks and reaching for his own drink. He’s careful about the toast Jou offers, clinking the glasses together like he’s afraid they’ll shatter before he takes a breath and starts drinking his cider like it’s a race. Jou doesn’t even touch his drink; Alan can see the liquid slipping sideways, his grip going unsteady as all his attention focuses into the slow smile he’s turning on the blond.

Alan doesn’t offer congratulations aloud, and after a moment he looks away, goes to check on the pair of girls at a table just alongside the bar. That expression on Jou’s face isn’t intended for him to see, after all. But he nudges Jou’s usual bill back across the bar instead of picking it up, and Jou almost-nods in thanks before he slips it back into his pocket.

The price of a few drinks is well worth it, to see that light in Jou’s eyes.


End file.
